Combat Alley (2007) (35 page)

The first thing the chief did was go back to his bellowing and gesturing. The three other SEALs of Alpha Fire Team knew exactly what he had in mind, but their Pashto comrades in arms could only guess at what was wanted of them. Matt's primary concern at that point was to get all the women, children, and old people into a safer area. He decided to abandon the central and western parts of the village, and hole up in the eastern area. That way the civilians could crowd into the buildings and hunker down while the fighters positioned themselves for more assaults.

The SEAL team leader was relieved there were no heavy weapons, such as mortars and machine guns, to deal with, nor did any of the enemy seem to possess grenades. This was going to be a gunfight, pure and simple, and he had figured out a couple of ways to turn things to his favor. At least he hoped he could last until the rest of the Brigands arrived.

Within a minute, all the natives caught on to what was wanted of them, and the population began running toward the indicated area as their tormentors still milled around on the west end. They crowded into the homes and workplaces, getting within the walls that offered protection from the small arms fire. The valuable horses were also led into the structures without any protests from the people.

The chief spotted a pile of sandbags on top of the building that was used as a lookout post. He yelled over at Pete Dawson. Get your butt up in that fighting position and cover us while we get organized down here.

Dawson obeyed wordlessly, scrambling up a ladder. A half dozen Pashtuns, seeing what was going on, reacted in their usual excitable way by following after him. Within seconds, the SEAL was nestled behind the barricade with three fighters on each side. He stood up long enough to glance out past the houses on the west side.

Hey, Chief! he yelled down. It looks like they're gonna take another run at us!

When the Pashtuns below saw the chief, Miskoski, and Tiny Burke run to places that offered excellent fields of fire, they followed suit. The group was no sooner situated than the pounding of hooves and yells of attackers could be heard thundering straight at their defensive positions.

The attacking mass was broken up by the scattered housing of the village, and this channeled their assault into a half dozen paths. The defenders concentrated their fire in those areas, but they were too few to make much of a dent in the 400 horsemen they faced.

GUTSY Olson and his Charlie Fire Team, along with forty-two Janoon fighters, galloped swiftly across the open country northward toward the village. The Janoons, in an area they knew well, were aware their destination was the smallest village of their clan. Although their knowledge of English was practically nonexistent, they instinctively sensed the very real danger for a group of their people. Illiterate people have a special instinct of comprehension that has not been dulled by memorizing symbols representing sounds that are then put together to form words. Their eyes perceive intent, purpose, and objectives in group activities such as hunting and war. This is done through instinctive interpretation of the physical action of people, animals, and, under certain circumstances, even climatic conditions. Sociologists, psychologists, and anthropologists refer to this collective sixth sense as the EAS, i. E., the Environmental Awareness Syndrome. Some consider the phenomenon spiritual or even supernatural, likening it to the primal but successful herbal and healing processes used by primitives all over the world.

SUROV ordered a halt on the eastern side of the village, but instantly changed his mind and led his force that now numbered a bit under 400 farther away to get out of range of the defenders' fusillades. Aleksei Barkyev rode up to the Russian leader. Valentin Danielovich, he said. We must keep up the pressure. Every time we hesitate, we lose more men when we charge again.

Surov laughed. You mean to say, Aleksei Ivanovich, that we lose more miserable Pashtuns. No more than five of our comrades have given up the ghost in all this fighting.

Now Timofei Dagorov left his unit to join them. How long is this going to take?

What's the rush? Surov asked. Do you have a crowded social calendar today?

Dagorov grinned. I am simply hungry and wish to eat. It has been a while since breakfast.

Then I shall hurry things along, Surov quipped. When I order the next charge, I want you two to have your men hold back long enough to let the Pashtuns get ahead of us. Then we shall follow them to the objective, using them as cover.

The pair swung their horses around to ride back to their units. Surov stood in his saddle with his AKS-74 above his head. Hamla kawi!

The Pashtun horsemen struck their animals with quirts, then stuck the whips in their teeth as they charged back toward the village. They immediately came under heavy fire from the close-packed defenders who once more delivered volleys from the cover of the buildings they occupied.

PETE Dawson, still on the roof, now had sixteen fighters who had joined him. Together the group poured sprays of 5.56- and 7.62-millimeter steel-jacketed slugs into the mass of men who galloped directly into their line of fire. Numerous figures were knocked spinning out of their saddles to bounce and roll across the walkways between the village buildings.

The return fire from the charging tribesmen of the Mahsud, Kharoti, Bhittani, and Ghilzai clans was not well aimed, but there was plenty of it. The uncoordinated but heavy swarms of bullets slammed into the defensive positions, gouging hunks of mud from the buildings and splattering into living flesh.

The Russians came in close behind them, protected by human shields as they swept through the village to the far side.

BILL Brannigan had maintained a canter to allow Charlie Fire Team to catch up with the five-man headquarters group. As soon as Gutsy Olson and his trio of SEALs joined them, the nine men broke into a gallop northward toward the scene of fighting.

Ensign Orlando Taylor, his SAW gunner Doug Mac-Tavish, and Delta Fire Team were only a scant five kilometers behind them, while up to the north Alpha Team was even closer to the besieged Janoon village. And close on their trail, Jim Cruiser led Tex Benson and Bravo Fire Team toward the same objective.

These SEALs brought a total of 152 Pashtuns to join the 4 Brigands and 35 Janoons fighting at the village.

BRANNIGAN and his bunch were the first to arrive at the battlesite. They came in from the north, the Americans spread out in a galloping line as skirmishers with the Pashtuns bunched up in their usual disorganized way. When they first spotted the enemy, the bad guys were on the far eastern side of the village, preparing to make another run at the defenders. The Russians and their pals were mingling as they formed up, making easy targets for the new guys in town.

When the mass of flying bullets crashed into the attackers, they instinctively pulled away from the source of incoming rounds. At the same time, Matt Gunnarson spotted the reinforcements, and ordered mass firing to increase the advantage. The result was a crossfire that emptied more enemy saddles. This time the Russians were dropping as thickly as their native buddies.

Surov did not have to give any orders to pull back, and it wouldn't have done him any good if he attempted to maintain control. The minute they tried to withdraw from the unexpected attack, another group hit them from the south. This was Ensign Orlando Taylor, his SAW gunner, and the Delta Fire Team. Five M16 rifles and the one M249 squad automatic weapon joined the salvos directed at the attackers. The Russians and Pashtuns were so close-packed that many of the falling corpses and wounded men collapsed on top of each other as they fell to the ground.

Now Lieutenant (JG) Jim Cruiser, Tex Benson, and the Bravo Fire Team joined in the melee. What had been a battle of resistance with little hope for the defenders had turned into a meat grinder for the attackers. Saddles emptied perceptibly as the Russian-Pashtun force made an impromptu and sloppy run for safety in an eastern direction. The SEAL relief force turned to follow as Matt Gunnarson's guys, along with their Janoon buddies, fetched their horses from the buildings to mount up to join in the chase.

By the time the run was at top speed only Valentin Surov and a half dozen Russians were still noncasualties. Of the original number of Pashtuns who rode with them, no more than 15 percent were still alive. After a kilometer of flight, the two groups instinctively split up, with the Russians galloping toward the nearby Kangal Mountains and the Pashtuns heading for their home villages.

The pursuers also parted company according to ethnicity. The SEALs pressed on after the Russians while the Yousafzais and Janoons, all swearing badal, furiously pursued their tribal enemies.

.

1645 HOURS

THE entire SEAL detachment was in the foothills of the Kangal Mountains, dismounted with a defensive perimeter formed around their impromptu bivouac. Brannigan ordered a halt to make a transmission to Brigadier General Greg Leroux aboard the USS Combs. Frank Gomez had brought the Shadowfire radio with him, and he raised the floating SFOB to send a SITREP to the cantankerous general.

The news of the victory on the Pranistay Steppes put Leroux in a near euphoric state of mind. All the problems with the poppy harvest and the Taliban had been wrapped up and tied with a bright red ribbon as far as he was concerned. The only thing to do now was to stand fast and let the brass upstairs make some very important strategic and tactical decisions on further steps that had to be made. The Brigands were to stand fast where they were and wait for the general, who would arrive ASAP with the latest poop.

THE Pashtuns back on the steppes were in a state of wait-and-see. The fighting men of the four tribes who had sided with the Russians had been decimated. They and their families were praying and preparing for what could very well be the end of their existence on earth. It appeared as if Allah's paradise would gain an influx of new arrivals in the next couple of hours.

The victorious Yousafzai and Janoon tribes now surrounded the main villages of the Mahsuds and Kharotis. The lesser Bhittanis and Ghilzais were being ignored at the moment. They would get theirs just as soon as the Yousafzai Awalmir Khan and Ghairat, the Janoon war leader, decided the fates of their vanquished enemies.

Fate had decreed one more paroxysm of bloodshed and violence over the expanse of the Pranistay Steppes.

Chapter 26

TEMPORARY SEALs BIVOUAC

KANGAL MOUNTAIN FOOTHILLS

5 DECEMBER

1345 HOURS

THE sudden windchill factor brought the temperature down a good twenty degrees as the rotors' blast of the Navy Super Stallion chopper whipped up a storm of stinging sand particles. Bill Brannigan, Jim Cruiser, and Orlando Taylor bore up under the discomfort as they watched the big machine land. Chinar, the interpreter, would normally have been there, but he had been given special permission to be with his tribesman for the final showdown with their Pashtun enemies.

The pilot eased back on the engine as Brigadier General Greg Leroux jumped from the aircraft down to the ground. He turned and grabbed a rucksack and an M16 rifle from an accommodating crewman. Then two more men joined him, each receiving field gear from the same sailor after unassing the aircraft. The trio swung the loads over their shoulders and walked toward the informal reception committee as the Super Stallion rose back to flying altitude.

Leroux, grinning happily, walked up in long strides with his companions following. He returned the salutes of the naval officers, then offered his hand to each man. How're you boys doing? he asked. He looked around. Good God Almighty! It's fucking wonderful to be back in the field! Then he gestured to his companions. Let me introduce these two guys, who are going to be real important in the days to come. The first is Spencer Caldwell from our vaunted CIA, and his buddy there is Major Firdaus Khumar of Tajik Army Intelligence. Now with those preliminaries taken care of, let's get down to business.

The visitors were escorted back to the bivouac where the four fire teams and headquarters were formed up. Senior Chief Buford Dawkins bawled the order that brought the Brigands to attention.

Knock it off! Leroux yelled. This is no place for that bullshit. Dismiss the formation and tell me where we can drop our fucking gear.

Over there, sir, Dawkins said. That's our command post.

Leroux, without breaking stride, went directly to the spot with his fellow travelers and the SEAL officers hurrying after him. The general spotted the picket line of horses. Look at that, will you? It's a scene from the past. He dropped the rucksack by a campfire while Caldwell and Khumar followed his example. It's colder'n shit out here.

Welcome to the Pranistay Steppes, sir, Brannigan said.

Thanks. Where the hell is Malachenko? Get his ass over here.

The terse command set up a bit of scurrying, and almost immediately Andy Malachenko reported in. He nodded to Caldwell. Nice to see you again, Spence.